Yosemite Massacre
by shenandoahok
Summary: An ex-military officer turned pacifist escapes the Yosemite Massacre with his girlfriend and an orphan.
1. Chapter 1

Yosemite Massacre

by

Shenandoah

Chapter One

The unusually warm temperatures in Yosemite worries everybody in the small commune-even the older members of the society. Snow covers the mountaintops, and a sudden melt could cause flooding in the commune, and that will be tragic for the community since we live in the valley. A melt usually happens in the summertime, but this last winter produces a tremendous amount of snow for one season, and the rains have already saturated the ground. The melting snow feeds into the man made lake located to the south of the commune where the fishes bite aggressively. I catch a bundle of fish, clean them, and store them in my refrigerator. The lake is my primary protein source. Sometimes I sell my catches to some of the locals or use them to barter for supplies. Fishing is good in the Yosemite Valley.

The majority of the residents stay in well built tents, and sleep in sleeping bags that the Votanis Collective donates to us. The bags have the initials "VC" written on the front of them, and some of the humans have the bags too. The commune shares everything except for the secrets. Everybody comes to the commune trying to escape the Pale War, and many of us, including myself, have a painful and bloody past.

The Iraths keep a watch on their crops, and ensures the commune that things are looking good. The Iraths spend the majority of their days working diligently in harvesting the land, and growing food for the commune. The Liberata-a short stocky humanoid creature-work well with all the races, and they assist the Iraths with growing crops, keeping finances, and other arduous tasks. We've made it clear to the Liberata that under no circumstances will they be used as servants or slaves.

Even though we remain a peaceful community, sometimes predators-animals and humans-make their way into our commune. Representatives from the Votanis Collective and the Earth Republic use mental games and techniques in an attempt to turn us against one another, but we're too smart for their games. We make promises to each other to never raise an angry fist towards another member of the community. It's not always an easy task keeping the peace between all the races because everybody carries flammable baggage. The underbrush that we carry with us into the community can ignite from the smallest of sparks, and cause a disturbance that needs a mediator to calm us down. The Castithans and Iraths cause the biggest problem when they're in the same room, and they know this. Each side promises to never raise a fist.

The majority of the people living within the community are under the age of thirty-five, and we consider the people in their thirties as the elders. The Yosemite Valley comes into existence by a couple of kids named Ronald and Sarah Kirby, brothers and sisters. Their parents are wealthy land developers who give them the valley when Ronald is merely ten-years-old and Sara nine; and in turn, they turn it into a sanctuary for Irathients who want to get away from all the fighting. The first Votans enter into the valley around twenty-fifteen with several hundred flooding into the place every year since. Ronald and Sarah die in a plane crash in twenty-twenty-five when the ECF shoots them down over Oklahoma City. It's a sad day indeed, and causes a lot of friction between the United States and ECF.

Yosemite Valley is a haven, a place of solace from the insurmountable amount of fighting between the Earth Republic and the Votanis Collective, but we all live in shuttering fear from the possibilities of either side overrunning our sanctuary-callously killing us for living with the aliens. The media works for the Earth Republic, and jams the airwaves with propaganda against the Votanis Collective. I don't know how many channels of communication are open, but the last time I check, two stations came in loud and clear with a message of gloom and doom. The majority of chatter is happening over secure, military channels, but the Votans use devices that jam all frequencies.

Every now and again, we receive a visit from the ECF or the Votanis Collective demanding services of some kind, but we always inform them that we're a pacifist community with no stake in this war. Humans inundate the airways with anti-Votanic propaganda aiming at feeding resentments against the newcomers, so we don't have any televisions in the commune. The biggest story in the news is the story about the diseases that some Votans carry that can be deadly to humans, but innocuous to the Votans. The Earth Republic comes through the town nearly a year ago with vaccinations for all the humans, but left the Votans out of the picture. It's a failed attempt for the Earth Republic to divide the community, but we aren't having it.

The kids-humans and Votans-play in the distance with a red, rubber ball, and I hear their laughter. The town council debates frequently about how we go about keeping the children safe from the deadly consequences of the war, but the fighting is getting closer to our commune. We have a powwow amongst ourselves without the children present, and say that we will keep them in the dark about the war. Many of them have no idea that a bloody battle happens fifty miles from our commune, and no soldiers on either side survives. It's a hard decision about keeping the children ignorant from the outside world, because we wouldn't know what to do if the violence ever spills into Yosemite Valley.

The mountains hold on to its snow despite the hot temperatures in the valley, and some of the Votans love the site of the snow caps in the distance. I see the birds flying so free, so majestically free that I wish I could join them. The Irathients point to the birds, and smile for a minute. They take to nature like they invented it, and that's a special quality about them. They appreciate the beauty of the mountaintops more than any other race in Yosemite Valley, and they spend hours everyday focusing on the beauty of nature. They like to stand in the middle of the day when it's the hottest, and let their reddish skin soak up the rays of the sun. I often watch Rota-the Irathient waitress I've been seeing-bask in the sun, smiling, and asking me when will we move our relationship to the next level. She's persistent. It saddens me that the fighting spills into twenty-twenty-nine, and I feel that it will continue well into the next decade, but that isn't the reason for my apprehension over an intimately, serious relationship with an Irathient woman. I've dated Rota for six months, but we haven't engaged in any sexual activity. She nudges me all the time to take our relationship to the next level, but there's questions she'll won't to know that I can't answer.

Rota loves taking hikes through the mountains, and often tells me that every creature has a place in helping nature. In the spring, she and I wrestles in the Daffodils, and enjoys watching the honey bees fly from flower to flower. She says, "Spring is the best time of the year."

"Why is that?" I ask with a smile.

"'Cause everything is so alive," she says smiling, "New life is everywhere."

I'm a pacifist. Like most pacifist, I'm not born opposing war and violence, but after engaging in such activities myself, I develop a strong dislike for harming other people. I look at Rota sometimes, and I see the faces of the murdered, the ones I murdered. Like all the residents of the commune, I carry baggage that lingers in my soul, and weighs heavy on my heart. There isn't much happening in my hometown of Muskogee, Oklahoma, and I spends a lot of time dreaming about fighting against the aliens. The majority of people I grow up around have an utter disdain for the aliens, and propaganda sent out by the Earth Republic say that they will slowly overtake the world. I believe all the warnings about the aliens spreading deadly contagions that will decimate Earth's human population. In twenty fifteen, my Momma buys boxes of surgical mask, and forces my brothers and I to wear them. The majority of people in Muskogee wear surgical masks everywhere they go. We use plenty of antibacterial soaps that we carry in our pockets everywhere we go because it's rumored that the aliens carry diseases that can pass to humans. She even speaks badly when the news of Yosemite Valley being a safe haven for the Votans hit the airwaves. She thinks it will be a haven for diseases. Some people desire to section the valley off from the rest of the country, and just give it to the Votanis Collective.

My past grooms me into the pacifist that I am today, and now I refuse to take up arms against the Votans. I've spilled plenty of Votanic blood in the past, and I'm ashamed to ever say I did. It comes so easy for me at the time because I had a lot of hate for the Votans before I came to one realization: other people want to control my thinking. My feelings for the aliens are predicated on a series of lies told by the Earth Republic, and I never will forget about that. The Pale War divides the nation, and makes everybody look bad in the process. It's a senseless war fueled by unbridled greed and hubris. What's the point in trying to instill fear in people with brute force because the end result is usually an angry enemy. The majority of people in Yosamite are pacifist, and we decline to arm against each other. We live off the land in most cases except for the occasion feast at the Chicken Diner. But it isn't always like this with me. There is a time when I watched an insurmountable amount of violence on television, and wished I could fight the aliens in order to save the planet. In my late teens, I joins the military in order to save the world against the Votans. The Earth Republic has a program for the brightest and best teenagers in order to prepare them to becoming officers in the Earth Military Coalition. I believe the propaganda the government and the media espouses, and took up arms against the coalition of aliens. Earth Military Coalition sends me to the best schools, and I become an officer on January 1, 2021. It's a proud day for me-even though I don't truly have an understanding of what my mission would be. Up until that point, I have killed only in simulators, games, and imagination, and none of those things prepare me mentally to kill real aliens who looks like me, walks like me, talks like me, and feels like me. I stood in the mirror with my chiseled chin, brass, and decorated chest, and smile. I goes by Lieutenant Derrick Shooty.

War ruins me, and I won't lie about that. Everybody that I kill for the Earth Republic remains scorched into my mind, and no matter what, I will die with their screams replaying in my head. My heart bleeds for all the death in the world because of the greed and selfishishness of a few. It pains me to see so many youth-humans and Votans-dueling over who owns this planet. It's a big enough rock to hold all life; and with the right technology, resources are plentiful. Living in violence is still living, but the fights are fiercest, and the reports trickling in from the battlelines are disheartening. I sit against an old oak tree in the middle of Yosemite, and think passionately about the days I wear the Earth Military Coalition's uniform. I watch several Iraths working on loading a truck with wood-preparing for a coming of age ritual for several young warriors.

When I reach the age of twenty-three, I earn the rank of First Lieutenant, and the EMC tasks me to locate a missing government official named Daila Brown. The Pale War hasn't started yet, but the events are in place for a massive outbreak of violence. Politicians on both sides are being assassinated at random, and it's igniting resentment in everybody. I'm grateful for the EMC believing in me, for giving me the mission, for allowing me to prove that humanity can overcome the Votan's encroachment on our freedoms. The Votans have made a series of aggressive movements after the terrorist, John Paul Bullock, kills the Votan Embassador to the U.N., Onulu Toruku. They have staged protest around the world that turn into sheer violence, and many people of all races die.

When Daila Brown disappears, the media immediately blames the Votans, and promises the humans that everything will be done to find her. Generals make television appearances on all the talk shows spreading hate for the Votans, and saying things like we must take back our world. The media says that the Votans kidnapped and possibly killed Daila Brown in retaliation for the murder of Onulu Toruku. They do an entire segment about how she might be somewhere in Mexico, and the military has several special operation units on the ground in Mexico searching for her. That is my mission: find Daila Brown, and eliminate anybody who gets in the way.

In those days, I have vivid visions of me earning the rank of General, and I want it badly. I do everything right so far in order to put me on the right track to becoming a field grade officer. So, I am the cocky bigheaded officer with the bad temper, and the willingness to kill the bad guys in order to save the planet. I feel that will clear a path for me through the ranks, and clinch me a seat in history as one of the great military minds. My team and I land in Olmec, Mexico, a primitive civilization with a lot of ancient artifacts still standing. The Votans have settled in Olmec a few years earlier, and it becomes a major haven for the Votanis Collective. My team consists of four men and one woman. I consider myself the fifth man on the team, the leader.

Jason Blair, a Sergeant First Class is my Platoon Sergeant, and he's a buffed up white dude from the same town where I grew up: Muskogee, Oklahoma. He's approximately ten years older than me, but gives me the respect due, and keeps me out of trouble in the early days of my career. He always say, "Muskogee boys have to watch each other's backs." Some of the officers call Blair a gym rat, but he's an intelligent man who loves reading poetry. I sits in on one of his poetry readings, and he's rather good, but his square head, dress right dress haircut, and demeanor don't go well with the other poets. He sticks out badly with his peers.

Tony Cooper, a quiet Asian kid from Texas, is a skinny Staff Sergeant who grows up lonely. He doesn't fit in with other Asian students because he doesn't have any connection to his Chinese's culture. His parents wants a child so badly that they adopts him as a newborn baby from China, but doesn't realize the negative repercussions of removing him from his culture. He grows up in an unfriendly part of Texas where he stays on the defensive throughout his teen years. The military trains him well, and he's a quiet killing machine waiting for the day he can unleash his inner demons onto the world.

Sauna Flare, an African American female from New York City, carries the rank of a Sergeant Promotable, and she wants everybody to know that she earns that "P." She's about my complexion, but has a patch of white skin on her left forearm. She says that it's nothing more than a birth defect, and doesn't let it hold her back. She spends a lot of time on the shooting range, gym, and practicing her combative moves. She doesn't waste time dealing with men, and she doesn't mind letting people know. She never shoots anything less than expert, and has an uncanny willingness to always win in everything she does. The command forces me to find an agile female for the team, and she volunteers before I have an opportunity to weed through the selections. She's the hardest worker I have ever met in my entire life, and doesn't mind bruises and scrapes. When I glance at her stats, I automatically choose her to be on my team.

Plywood Heller, a tough as nails Sergeant from Wyoming, grows up in the backwoods away from civilization. He doesn't know the aliens have invaded Earth until Twenty Nineteen, and then joins the military immediately after he finds out. He's approximately twenty-nine, and spends several years training for a race war against the blacks and Hispanics. And now with the invasion of seven new races, he decides the Votans are the only true enemies. I ask him about his name, and all he says to me is, "Parents choice. Didn't have any decision in the process."

We receive word that the Votans probably have taken Daila Brown to Mexico, and hides her in one of the newly formed Votan communities in Olmec. The intelligence feed keeps bringing up the ancient village of Olmec, and I'm positive that the official is in that city. We land on the outskirts of the city in flying mobile, two man fighter pods with wings, a new toy made by the Earth Republic. The machines are about as small as smart cars, but have wings with jet engines, and they move swiftly through the air. We walk stealthily into the city under the cover of darkness, and sneak into the town square without any friction. White skinned people roam everywhere in the town, and it seems somewhat overcrowded. I don't realize at the time how many Votans exist on Earth until I enter into the town. Sergeant Heller makes repeated statements that the days of humans owning the planet are coming to an abrupt end. It's only a matter of time.

The Castithans all look as if God dips them in flour-even their clothes. From my experience with them in the past, they're full of overbearing hubris, and have some kind of innate feeling of superiority. I hear rumors that the Castithans-the white skin folks-like bathing more than eating; and when they bathe, they turn it into a family affair. Obviously, my American mind automatically thinks something insidious is afoot, and the Castithans are a disgusting people nonetheless. I have assessed an alien culture with my haughty American attitude, and already have more than enough reasons to kill the white skin aliens without question.

I see a group of well dressed Castithans with their long, bleach blond hair playing some kind of card game. Several of the men look over their shoulders at us, and I feel the tension rise; but at the same time, they go back to playing their card game as if we aren't watching in the background.

Sergeant Flare walks up to me, and says, "Should just kill them all."

"At ease that crap, Sergeant," I orders with a grimace on my face. I stare her down, and she nods to me. "We'll do what's needed and no more."

"Yes, sir," she says with an evil grin on her face.

Sergeant Flare carries a lot of anger in her heart, and I don't know the reason why; but if given half a chance, she'll kill every Votan in the town. I have to keep things under control in order to prevent the possibility of a blood bath.

The card game the Castithans are playing is unrecognizable to me, but it looks similar to poker. They're slamming cards on the table, cursing, and being completely disrespectful to my team and I. We stand behind them in our dark brown military dress, and none of them give us the respect due. I clear my throat as loud as I can, but they don't move one iota. They pretend that we aren't behind them, and continue to play the game like normal. They take turns slapping the cards on the table, and yelling obscenities in their native tongue. I don't know why they don't realize that we speak Castithan, but they don't seem to mind. Sergeant Flare has a grimace on her face, like she wants to shoot them all, and I gives her the signal to wait. I don't say anything to her about her recalcitrant tone, but I do take a mental note of it. One of the Castithan men calls me a chocolate drone in his native tongue, and I grab him immediately, throw him onto the dusty ground, and before he hits the ground, my soldiers already have the other men in their crosshairs. I hate to say this, but it feel somewhat cathartic at the time for unleashing on the dude for disrespecting us, but that's then. It's a shameful display of violence that I cannot take lightly.

"What do you want, humans?" The Castithan on the ground asks. The look on his face is one of distress and anger, and he wipes the dirt off his mouth to check for blood. The other Castithans sit quietly with a look of anger on their faces, but they dare not move with all the weapons pointing at their heads.

I pulls Daila's picture out of my shirt, and asks, "You've seen her?" The picture has tattered edges because of holding it so many times with sweaty hands.

He laughs with a disdainful pride, and says, "Another human conspiracy." He looks at his comrades for support, and they all laugh in unison. I realize that the man on the ground is the head honcho, and the other guys are merely his minions.

Angry, I kicks the Castithan in the chest, and he falls flat onto his back in agony. I can tell that I probably broke a rib because he starts to have labored breathing. "You think this is funny?" I'm raising my voice at his disrespect, and thinking about putting a bullet in his head.

Looking up at me out the corner of his eyes, he says, "You people are corrupt." He coughs up some blood, and spits it on the ground. "You kill our politicians, and then accuse us of wrongdoing. Look at your own command for the answers."

The townspeople start gathering around us, and we slowly back away from the scene. If I can gauge the ambience of the crowd, I'll say it's an atmosphere of hate for us. Tony Cooper has his M-4 machine gun in the ready position, and Sauna Flare has her's shouldered. She holds her nine millimeter at the ready, and watches the men closely. We walk over to a two story building at the edge of the street, and it's the city council building. The townspeople remain behind us the entire time-watching our every move. Two tall Castithians stand on either side of the door in white suits that almost sparkle with grimaces on their faces when we approach. One of the guards has a scar that goes from his cheek to his ear. I didn't immediately know what happened to his face, but several clashes have happened between Votans and humans over the last few years. I am the first man up the stairs with my Platoon Sergeant close to my side, and Plywood is in the rear. Frustrated, I know I will more likely than not start killing people if I don't find the answers I need. I feel the rage inside of me coming up to the surface, and the Castithans' reluctance to speaking is getting old.

"Let us in?" I asks in a demanding voice. Unfortunately, the guards stand directly in front of the door without saying a word. The scarred cheek guard is the one in the front, and he has a menacing look on his face. He mocks us with the way he looks down on us.

"What business do you have with us?" The scarred cheek guard asks with a scowl on his face. He's well built with a slender frame, and he spits on the ground in front of me. I look down at my shoe, and then I reach for the picture of Daila Brown that's in my breast pocket.

I pulls out the picture of Daila Brown, and asks, "Have you seen this woman?"

"No Votan kidnapped your politician," he replies with a devious grin on his face. I look over my right shoulder at the crowd of people gathering in front of the building, and realize that I need to show some force. "Go back to your country, and leave us alone." The crowd cheers when they hear the soldier raise his voice, and I realize that I'm about to lose control of the situation.

"How do you know she was kidnapped?" I asks forcefully.

"We get the news," he says in a hostile manner. He brushes up against me, and I stumble backwards a bit.

I don't know what snaps inside of me, but I pulls out my handgun, and shoots the scarred cheek guard in the head. The bullet goes through his head, hits the other guard in the head, and they both fall to the ground in front of us. Blood hits against the door of the city council building, and Plywood makes a loud booya sound in the background. We hear a woman and her children screaming frantically from the other side of the street, and they charge towards us with their arms flailing in the air. Plywood kicks the woman in the stomach when she charges towards us, and she falls to the ground in agony. One of the kids throws his body over his momma in order to protect her, and Sergeant Flare says in an antagonizing voice, "How sweet!"

I show her the picture, and ask the question one more time, "Have you seen this woman?"

"Ask the Earth Republic," she replies in a cold voice.

Sergeant Flare walks over to her, places her handgun against the woman's head, and looks at me. "Just give me the order, sir?"

The woman looks at the end of the Sergeant Flare's gun, and simply says, "You've already killed my husband." She looks up at me with tears rolling down her powdery cheeks, and asks, "Why don't you just kill me?"

Her children start to cry loudly, and ask repeatedly, "Please don't kill my Momma?"

When I see the look in the kids' faces, I simply tell Sergeant Flare to let them go. They ran up the stairs, and cry over their dead father. One of her children points at me, and screams, "I'll kill you one day, human."

Later that day, we stumble on a group of Iraths living like gypsies out in the wilderness. They have set up an elaborate shanty town with a functioning government and system of living. In many ways, they remind me of the American Natives, and don't care too much for humans. Since my early childhood days, I know the Iraths don't care too much for humans; and when they first come to Earth, they say that we smell like stacko. The majority of Iraths have orange hair, and range in color from very dark to very light. Some people say that they come across as feral animals, but I have never known any of them to be violent without a cause.

When we approach the shantytown, the Irathient kids are playing soccer with some Hispanic kids. The small town has some Hispanics living and mixing with the Iraths, and we see the same scenario with the Castithans.

Plywood is the first person to verbalize his disgust with the living conditions. "Figures. Knew some dirty spic …"

"Soldier, cut that racist crap," I say.

"Yes, sir."

The entire town comes out to meet us almost immediately, and they let us know that they don't appreciate our unannounced presences. A lady who dresses in a very nice long robe comes to greet us with several Irathient warriors standing behind her. She's unlike many of the Irathients I met in the past because she's dressed for business.

"I'm Tiera," the Irathien woman says dressed in their traditional, business garb. Approximately five-foot five inches, she greets us by placing her right hand over her chest. She comes across as very cultured and refined.

"I'm Lieutenant Shooty," I say in a strong, commanding voice. "We're looking for this woman."

Tiera looks at the picture, and ask, "Why would you think she'd be with us?" She shows the picture to her guards, and they don't recognize her either. She hands the picture back to me. "She's not here."

"We have evidence that Votans kidnapped her," I reply.

She laughs for a minute, and then ask, "Why would you think that? We're a peaceful people, Lieutenant.."

"Allow us to look around, Tiera?" I ask.

She looks at her community as they stand behind her, and then she says, "No."

"No?" Sergeant First Class Blair ask. He pulls out his handgun, walks toward the woman, and a spear lands in the middle of his chest. It goes right through him, and sticks into the ground. It happens so fast that I barely have time to prepare.

Immediately, I pulls out my handgun, and shoots Tiera in the head. Before she hits the ground, I have already taken out several more Irathients in the crowd. I'm scanning the area, but I don't see who threw the spear. We retreat back behind a giant rock, and Sergeant Flare unloads her M-4 machine gun into the crowd. Plywood continues to fire until nothing in the village moves, including the kids. Several of the Iraths have made it into the wilderness, but we don't go after them. We allow them to run away because it will take at least an hour to completely go through each hovel for any signs of Dailia Brown. After we secure the area, I look over my Sergeant's body, and places him in the back of my winged craft with the help of Sergeant Flare. I find it hard to believe that he's gone, but I quickly regroup.

"Let me go after the escapees?" Sergeant Flare ask.

"Don't worry about them," I say with a grimace on my face. "Let's search the hovels for any signs of the official."

Unfortunately, we go through all the hovels, but don't find any signs of the government official; and then it hits me: we've killed innocent people. There are nearly twenty bodies on the ground in front of my team, and we place them in a pile, burn them, and then burn the entire village. We stand around for several minutes after we torch the place, and it feels like my heart is about to explode in my chest. We destroy an entire community of people, and I don't know why. We're searching for a life, but we're destroying life in the process.

We spend a few more days in Mexico before we head back to the states in our two-manned planes, and a special unit comes in to retrieve my Sergeant First Class Blair's machine. I reports to my supervisor about the mission, and he chuckles for a moment. His name is Captain Young, a thirty-five year old man with two children. He looks at me with his high and tight military style haircut, and says, "What I'm telling you is classified. There is no Daila Brown."

"Huh?" I ask with a grimace on my face. At first, I thought I heard him wrong until he started to speak about the situation.

"Just a ploy to make the Votans look bad," he says with a smile.

"But I lost a man over this nonsense, sir?"

He laughs for a moment. "We're only pawns in the game, son. Pawns in the game."

I stumbles out of his office with a look of disbelief on my face. I have difficulties swallowing because my throat feels like it has a giant knot in it. I still need to write a letter to Sergeant Blair's family, but cannot find the right words. Not only do I kill innocent people, but I lose a man in the process, and then I find out it's all an elaborate game. The image of Tiara leaps into my head, and I feels woozy about it. I'm having a hard time dealing with killing her, and destroying her entire community. I make an effort to talk to the Post Chaplain about what I did on my mission, but he was of no use. He simply says, "There will be good days and bad days." I didn't have a clue what he meant because it didn't soothe my anger on any level.

Immediately, I know I won't be able to remain in the military because the unfortunate news causes me deep reservations about my beliefs in anything. I inform my team of my decision, and Sauna has an adverse reaction. She calls me a coward, and tells me that the ECF is for real humans and not alien sympathizers.

I resign my commission almost immediately after having that bitter conversation with Sauna, and move up to Yosemite right after I left the military. At first, I try returning to Muskogee, but they have a strong belief in the ECF, and I have nothing but disdain for the organization. I spend no more than a day in the city of Muskogee before I depart from the town for good.

Yosemite-in my opinion-is the example of humans and Votans working in harmony to make the world a better place. We have conflicts with the other races, but we work for a better world, a better tomorrow for the health of the planet. The Castithans-the whitest people ever-give just enough sweat equity to make the society work, but the Iraths work the hardest and longest. We don't ask the Indogene to work with their hands because most of them are doctors and scientist. They do work that benefits humans and Votans alike; and when the Votanis Collective comes to town, they always deny their request. Standoffish, the Iraths keep to themselves most of the time, and don't care too much for humans or Castithans; but when it comes to work, they don't hold back.

The majority of people in town don't know anything about my military service, and I will never tell them. My past remains a secret that I can never let them know exist, not even Rota. If they have any idea about how many Votans I killed when I wore the uniform, they'll ask me to leave. I hate thinking about my past, but the faces of those people haunt my dreams. Before the medicines dried up, I had a steady supply of drugs that allowed me to deal with my nightmares; but since the war, it's almost impossible to get a hold of those drugs.

The war rages on for nearly six-years now, and it tires the people of Yosemite. Nobody talks about the deaths that much because some of the aspects of the conflict enrages the citizens. Rumors of soldiers-Votans and humans-killing innocent people spreads through the community, and everybody fears for their lives. I give the killing sprees a lot of credence, but I feel somebody needs to remain level headed, and bring the war to an abrupt ending. It serves no purpose. The Votans unleashes several high powered chemo weapons that takes out entire battalions of soldiers; and in return, the Earth Coalition Forces uses strategic nukes that lay waste to many of the Votan's strongholds. The Earth Republic issues a warning that a toxic cloud sits about four hundred feet in the air, and has made airplane travel a death sentence. The radioactive levels around Yosemite remain virtually unchanged, but the Indogene have reservations about staying.

The Iraths continue loading wood onto the back of the truck, but it doesn't start. I walk over to them, and give them a hand in getting it started because I know of the importance of their ceremonies. It is an old stick shift, and we push the truck until the engine turns over. Smoke shoots out of the back of the truck, and the other Iraths hop onto the back of it. I watch them drive off down the road, and the pain of hunger overtakes me.

I walk over to the Chicken Diner in the middle of the town, and order a plate to eat. Nobody misses the Chicken Diner because of the large sign on the front of building allures many people into its doors. It simply reads, "CHICKEN." Rota-an Irath waitress-works the afternoon shift, and I find her very attractive. Her reddish skin looks smooth and unblemished, and everything about her seems almost perfect. Iraths have broad and flat nasal bridges with deep colored red hair. It almost looks orange in some lights. She talks to me all the time, but I've been having a hard time crossing the bridge from friendship into relationship. We often take strolls through the park after dark, and sit in the middle of fields watching the moon.

Every since my arrival to Yosemite, my interests have been for Irathient women, and I'm not going to lie about that. I think my subconscious needs forgiveness on some level, but I'm not sure. Unfortunately, I cannot imagine anybody wanting me if they knew the blackness in my heart. Rota looks at me, but doesn't smile. She simply asked, "So, we take a walk in the park tonight?"

I smile, grab her right hand, and put it against my cheek. "Yeah. I'll love that."

She blushes for a moment, and replies, "You're very affectionate today."

"It's just." I pause for a second because I see Tiera's face in my mind. I repeatedly watch her fly backwards after I shoot her with my weapon. "Maybe we should move our relationship to the next level."

A grin takes over her face, and it's the first time that I see her smile a big smile while at work. "The usual?" she asks blushing.

Chapter Two

The people of the commune gathers plenty of items for the Irathient, coming of age ritual, and many Votans and humans make plans to attend the first part. Every member of the commune brings baskets of fruits, vegetables, and fish for the contributes. The wood is used in order to heat up the sweat tent that holds the kids for seven hours before the fights. The kids sweat, drink, and eat all day until it's time for the fights. Usually, the fights aren't too bad because the kids hardly have enough energy to give a good performance. The ritual is more about endurance than sheer strength. Castithans, Indogenes, Liberata, Irathients, humans, and Sensoths all live in the commune, and work together in order to make the community work. Seven Irathient boys will have a competition in combatives as the first step to becoming an adult, after enduring the sauna ritual. Some of the boys don't make it through the blistering sauna, and that's expected. The fights will be in a controlled atmosphere because we don't want any of the children hurt. In the old world, Rota tells me that the ceremony is a lot more violent, and sometimes kids die. The second portion of the test is to leave home for seven days, and live off the land. The last phase of the test is the ceremony.

Every once in awhile, and passionately, I kiss Rota hard on the lips. The light of the moon exacerbates her beauty, and she seems more radiant than ever. She wears a necklace with a heart on it that I gave her nearly six months earlier, and she holds on to it, and calls it a precious gift. I kiss her just to get it out of the way, and to break the tension in the air, but it's enjoyable nonetheless. When I gave her the necklace six months earlier, she ask, "What's the meaning of this?"

I say, "A down payment so you'll know that I'm interested."

I haven't had a serious relationship with a woman since high school, and I feel a little rusty about that. That's not to say I haven't had sex with loose women around town when it suits me, but I haven't been in a serious relationship. We stand in the middle of the forest adjacent to the crowd of people watching the ceremony. The darkness descends on the community, and the fight is held under the light of the fire. Rota and I continue to kiss passionately away from the main crowd, and she wants to head back to my hovel that lies over the hill. Her breath feels good against my neck, and I feel the stiffness in my trousers. It seems like a good idea, and I'm eager to consummate the relationship with some good old fashion sex. We slip conveniently out of sight, and head to my hovel. It's not much of a place to live like I had when I worked for the ECF, but it is enough to keep the rain off my head. Fortunately, the majority of Iraths don't mind living in such conditions, and she thinks the place is adequate. It is nothing more than a furnished shipping container that I turn into a place of refuge. I pull off the latches, and convert it into a box with regular doors that locks from the inside.

It is now full dark outside, but still early enough for sex, more festivities at the ceremony, and more sex afterwards. I have taken all of Rota's clothes off her body. She's completely nude on my carpeted floor, and I want her more than anything. Her sleek body looks almost picture perfect as she stretches out in front of me. I drop my pants around my ankles, and quickly remove them. I still have on my shoes, and she points to them, and wants me to remove them. A loud scream-automatic gunfire-causes us to run to my side window. My heart races fast because I recognize the sound of the weapons. We quickly put on our clothes, and we hear people running past my hovel. Frightened, I tell Rota to stay in the house, but she scoffs at the idea. We ran outside, and I see several wounded people limping past me. Blood covers their bodies, and I don't know what to say.

"What's going on?" I ask in a frantic voice. I see blood dripping down the face of a human girl no more than twelve years old, and Rota checks her for a second.

"ECF is killing us," she screams with blood trickling down her face. "They're dead."

Rota's face loses all color, and she looks up at the hill. Explosions, flashes of light, the sound of gunfire causes us to panic. "I have to go help my people," Rota screams.

"No, Rota," I say with a grimace. "They have guns. We have nothing."

"But my people..."

"They are our people," I say, "We must run into the woods."

I grab Rota by the arm, and we run deep into the woods, as far from the shooting as possible. The screams carry on the back of the wind, and no matter how far we run, we hear the screams echoing through the wind. Rota wants to go back, and die with her people, but I continue to talk her out of that plan. I'm not sure why she wants to do that, but I'm not willing to let her go easily.

"I love all the people of the commune, Rota," I say in a soft roar.

She looks at the ground, but doesn't say anything to me.

"They wouldn't want us to die," I say softly, "And if you die, then what do I have?"

"You're an idiot," she says with a frown on her face. "There isn't anything worthy about me."

"To me … you're everything," I reply with a smile. I place my hands on either side of her face, and gaze into her eyes. "I'm not willing to give you up."

The child, Rota, and myself charge the wooded area, and disappear into the thick brush. The sound of gunfire echoes through the trees, and the child panics. Blood trickles down her head, and Rota takes another look at the child's gash.

"She's grazed," Rota says as she looks at the wound. "Lucky girl."

We hear others running through the woods trying to get away from the soldiers, and I hug Rota tightly with both arms. "We run until our legs won't run."

She shakes her head in agreement while holding the left hand of the little girl. "Keep up, okay?"

The girl says, "Okay."

We run into Mariposa county after a long night of running, and we feel completely exhausted and hungry. My feet throbs in pain, and Rota takes off her shoes for a moment in order to check for blisters. We smell water from a nearby stream, and drink until our bellies are full. The water flows through an army of rocks that cleanses it, and makes it palatable. I considers the aleatory water source a godsend, but it hurts to know that we don't have any containers to store water for later. We move so fast out of the valley that I left my hunting knife in my hovel. After the little girl fills her belly, she lays on the ground, and looks up at the sky. I lean against a rock, and try to figure out our exact location, but I'm not sure about anything. Rota wades in the water, and I find several long sticks in a pile of brush. I bring them over to the large rock next to the stream, and then sharpens the end of one of the sticks. I'm rubbing the end of the shaft against the rock frantically in order to sharpen the end. I feel Rota staring at me for a second.

"You're preparing a weapon?" She asks.

"Yeah. We need protection," I say as I feel sweat pouring off my head. It's muggy, and the heat is much worse than normal.

"What about a life of nonviolence?" She asks with a look of awe on her face.

"That only works in a world where violence isn't the norm," I say.

The little girl walks over to me, grabs another staff, and rubs it against the other side of the rock. "Is this how you do it?"

"Yes," I say with a smile.

Rota folds her arms in protest to our forging of weapons, but I did what I did for her. She watches us as we pick up staff after staff, and turn them into weapons of war. She shakes her head in disagreement, but it's done. The little girl and I have made weapons. We have long staffs, short staffs, and a few heavy, round rocks for bashing in heads, but Rota won't touch one of them.

The sun beats us senseless, and we stay close to the river until nightfall. We rest the best we can in the hopes none of the soldiers find us. We haven't seen any of the other people from the commune since last night, and the little girl worries about her parents. She's strong, but doesn't have much hope for their survival. She wades in the water without her shoes in order to stay cool, and Rota joins her. I place my hands in the water, and feel the bottom of the riverbed. I find a hole in the riverbed, reach inside, and pull out a huge catfish. I toss it up on the land, but I'm bleeding. The fish hops wildly on the land, and Rota walks over with a rock in her hand, and beats it to death. I have a gash on my right hand where the fish bit me or something, but I'm okay.

Rota helps me manage the fish, and I use a sharp rock to cut the belly of the fish open. I clean it without too much problem, and the little girl winces at the sight of the bleeding animal. We bury the animal parts, and I find some flint rock in order to start a small fire. It's still light outside so I don't take any precautions about concealing the fire. It doesn't take long for the fish to cook, and we tear into like we have never eaten. It is more than enough fish to feed us, and after we finish it, we gather our spears, and travel farther into Mariposa.

"What's your name, little girl?" Rota asks.

"Rory," she says, "Rory Seeker."

"I'm Rota and that's Derrick Shooty."

I wave at Rory, and she smiles for a minute; but then out of nowhere, a group of soldiers descend on the small town. They enter the city from the north while we come in from the south. It's a small town, and they cover the place in a matter of minutes. We make a fruitless attempt to run, but the soldiers have their sights on us. Three soldiers stop us from leaving without much resistance, and knock the bag of sticks out my hand. One of the soldiers steps forward wearing the rank of a Master Sergeant, and she pulls off her gloves, and her left hand is completely white, but she's black. She removes her helmet, and half of her face is eaten away from some kind of chemical weapon. It's an old wound, but a hideous one nonetheless. I immediately recognize this soldier and she recognizes me. It's Sauna Flare and she wears the same pissed look on her face as always.

"Sauna …," I say.

"Shut the hell up, traitor," she interrupts, "It pains me to see a soldier I once admired with this Irathient scum." She looks Rota in the eyes, and Rota doesn't back down to her stare. "You have know idea what your man has done to your people, do you?"

Rota breaks off her stare with Sauna, and looks over at me. "What is she talking about, Derrick?"

I remain silent because I can't explain my actions in a manner that would secure a future with her. I look down at the ground, and hope that Sauna would change the subject, but the look on my face only forces her to give away my secret.

"He slaughtered your people with joy," she states with a huge grin on her face. "Even the children."

Rota looks over at me, but I don't stare back. I feel her eyes staring at my face, and then she asks, "Aren't you going to deny this charge?"

Sauna laughs for a minute, and says, "Just like a man. Sleeping with the same trash he burned." She pulls out her handgun, and points it to Rota's head. "Tell her what you did or I'll put a bullet in her head."

"Don't do it, Sauna?" I beg. "Don't you do it!"

She pulls back the hammer on the weapon, and I immediately kick the gun out of her hand. It flies into the air, and I kick her again with a back kick that causes her to fly backwards onto the ground. I catch the gun, and take out the two other soldiers without too much effort. Sauna hops off the ground, and we stand face to face with each other. It is a classical example of the student versus the teacher, and I wonder if I still carry the skills to fight against a perfectionist. I throw the gun to the ground, and before it hits in the dirt, she kicks me twice. I fall to one knee, and then she hits me with a massive uppercut. Her speed seems almost inhuman, and it worries me. I sweep her legs, and she stumbles backward, but immediately she flips back to her feet, and stomps me. I see the bottom of her boot about to stomp my head, and I hear a knife cutting through the wind. It hits Sauna in the throat, and she falls backwards into a pool of her own blood. When I look over at Rota, she was still in her knife throwing position.

We grab their roller, and I place Rory in the back seat, and Rota's in the passenger seat. We take off towards the wooded area, and continue to drive over some of the roughest terrain in the country.

"Good throw," I say.

"Don't talk to me," Rota says with a serious look on her face. "You're a liar. Your entire life is a lie."

"I didn't lie..."

"Don't talk to me, Derrick. I need time to think, okay?"

"But I love you," I say in a soft, almost whispering voice. It's a brittle voice that shows how much pain I'm in.

Chapter 3

We finally make it back to the commune in our commandeer roller after traversing over some of the toughest terrain ever. The entire drive I try to think up a way to explain my past, but I don't have any viable ideas. Rota remains quiet the entire time, but she shows her displeasure everytime she hears me breathing. We could smell the smoke about three miles out from the commune, and we continue to travel toward our home-even if we didn't know what to expect. I look down at the commune from the top of the hill, but I don't see any of the soldiers left-only their destruction. Rota spends the majority of time in utter silence, but interrupts Rory when she begs me to teach her how to fight. She wants to learn all about guns, knives, and how to make tools to kill.

I know the discussion of fighting disturbs Rota, but the climate of the world seems to be changing with the war. The soldiers steal our peace in a matter of minutes, and we don't have any recourse to stave off their injustices. At the end of the day, the only way to stop violence is with more violence, and history reiterates that point daily. Life is so fragile in these times, and the Pale War grows uglier every day. The nuclear power plants built by Earth Republic spews a vast amount of radioactive goo into the atmosphere, and parts of the country are inhabitable. The nuclear power plants are Earth Republics attempt to match the Votanis Collective's energy sources. And at some point, Rota will have to accept that violence is inevitable, and rely on weapons for protection.

"Don't talk like that, Rory," Rota says, "It's savagery."

"You can't stop violence with nonviolence," Rory says.

Rota looks over at me with a bitterness about her, and then says, "Look what you've started." I think she was being facetious, but I'm not sure. She wears a smirk on her face, and she places her left hand on my knee, and I feel the warmth in her gesture.

"Me?"

She makes a hissing sound, and then says, "I'm an idiot."

"Why do you say that?" I asked.

"'Cause the thought of letting you go shreds my soul," she laments, "But I know you've done really bad things, but I still want you in my life." She shakes her head as if to say she can't believe what's she saying, and then smiles.

"That was a long time ago," I say, "But I've changed."

We park the roller on a hill about a mile away from the commune. The area smells of burnt flesh and fire, but the soldiers aren't anywhere to be found. The smoke is still thick in parts of the community, but we can see what's happening on the ground. I hold Rory's and Rota's hands as we head down the hill, and I can't imagine how many people are dead. We see several dead bodies laying on the side of trails with bullets through their heads, and I shake my head at the gratuitous killings. It's a gruesome site, and I place my hands over Rory's eyes so she doesn't have to take in anymore of the violence. Several of the people who live through the unbridle violence places some of the dead bodies on carts, and takes them down to the center of the community. I hear people wailing over the dead as the Iraths continue to toss the bodies onto the wood piles. Everybody in the commune is working in order to restore order, but some of the people are saying that they plan on leaving the commune after this unfortunate event. They have given up hope of believing in a utopia anywhere on the planet, especially with the ongoing war. One of the Indogene doctors is on the top of the pile, and it shocks me because she is the biggest pacifist in the community. She has a bullet hole in her head with silver blood on her face and shirt. The other four Indogenes in the community attend to the wounded. Many of the people sit in the field wailing over their dead friends and families, but the Irathients continue crying and lamenting while still working.

Several of the Iraths have taken the wood from the ceremony, and are using it to help burn the bodies. Rota checks the list of names on the list of the dead and missing, and she sees Bret and Julie Seeker on the list, and knows that Rory's parents are dead. We sit Rory down in the grass, and break the news to her the best we can. She cries a little, but we believe she already knows her parents are gone. Rota cries about the situation more than Rory. We walk over to the Chicken Diner, and the place is gone-burned beyond savaging. Rota sees the burnt structure, and she cries on my shoulder because she knows her Aunt and Uncle are probably dead. I hold her with a tight grip, and tell her that I'm sorry this happened.

Two Irathient elders walk down the street, and I see Rota run over to them; it's her aunt and uncle. They own the Chicken Diner, but don't live in the commune with us. They live on the outskirts of the commune, but pretty much keep to themselves after they close the Chicken Diner every night.

I start helping the Iraths drag the bodies over to the fire, and we have a count of ninety-eight humans and one hundred and twelve Votans dead. Four of the tributes taking the plunge into adulthood are dead, and the other three are badly wounded. They will automatically be given the honor of passing the test-even though they only finished the first phase.

Apparently, a skirmish happens between the ECF and the Votanis Collective causing the deaths of a massive amount of residents in the valley, and each side marks us as traitors. The ECF calls us traitors because we have Votan technology and the Votanis Collective calls its people traitors because of the human technology. Nobody within the commune uses weapons of any type to hurt another human being, but we've paid a huge price nonetheless. I continue to pick up dead bodies off the ground, and toss them gently onto the pile, but it's painful. Many of the people I know; and the ones that I don't know, I recognize them from hanging out around the Chicken Diner. We have created several piles of bodies, and plan to light them on fire once we have enough wood mixed into the piles.

I pick up another body with Rota's help, and we carry it over to the large pile of bodies that lay on the end. She's sad, but somewhat relieved that her aunt and uncle are alive. Several of the Iraths pour gasoline on the bodies, and we light it on fire. We burn all the piles of bodies, and watch them for a minute to ensure the blazes are just right. Rory stands on my left side while Rota stands on my right; and in all the chaos, I realize war makes families out of the oddest couples.

30


	2. Chapter 2

Arkfall

By

Shenandoah

Rota lies in my bed burning with the pox fever. Small, red bumps cover her body from top to bottom, and her skin feels hot from the fever associated with the pox. Her clothes are wet from the sweat pouring off her thin frame. She's redder than usual, and I'm frightened every time her fever spikes. She tells me she feels weak, but doesn't want anything to eat. I give her soup, but it sits by her bed-untouched. My hovel is a wreck since she caught the pox, and she complains about not doing her part around the house to keep it clean. She's sick. I tell her she's sick; and when she gets better, she'll continue to do her part in the family. I place my hands on her smooth forehead, and she's warmer now than in the past two days. She hates that I baby her, but it's her, my love, my better half. It's my job to baby her. The meds are scarce. I have only a few more fever reducing, oblong white tablets left, and we both know it won't be enough to keep her fever at bay. Gingerly grabbing the empty bottle, she laughs. It's a laugh of fear more than anything else. Without the pills, she knows her fever will spike uncontrollably. It's a chance that I won't take. Never! She shakes from the chills. I pull off her wet clothes, and she lies completely nude on my bed, shivering. Her wet clothes smell musty because she hasn't bathe since the fever started. I toss them to the ground, and they make a clapping sound because of the dampness. I give her the last two tablets with a glass of cool water, pull off my clothes, and climb in the bed with her. She's hot all over like a portable furnace. My body is keeping her warm the best it can, but she still shakes uncontrollably. I feel helpless that I can't do anything to stop her temperature from spiking. She cries a little because of the headache associated with the fever, and I try to comfort her by gently wiping the sweat off her face. She gives me a half smile to let me know she's okay, but I don't believe her. She tries to make me think everything's okay, but it's not okay. I'm concerned.

We celebrate New Years a few days earlier, and she comes in contact with a human child suffering from the chickenpox. What kind of parents bring their children into a crowded area with a contagious disease? Is it on purpose? I don't know, but he grabs Rota's right hand before she notices he's covered with the pox. I see the look in her eyes, and I immediately know something is wrong. Pulling away from the boy's grip, she heads home in order to wash her hands, but it doesn't help. Without speaking to me, she's gone from my sight, and Rory and I search the grounds for her. I have Rory on my shoulders watching the event, and didn't realize she absconded so quickly. She usually tells me when she's tired, leaving, or whatever, but she didn't say anything. I should have known something was wrong when she pulled away from the boy so quickly, but I had Rory on my shoulders watching the festivities. Unfortunately, she knows almost immediately that she is coming down with something deadly to the Irathient people, and then she passes out on the floor. Rory and I discover her in the middle of my hovel covered in sweat, and the Doc diagnoses her with the pox. It's a rough day for us all, but the Doc ensures us she'll pull through without any problems, but I'm suspicious. Indogenes are so expressionless that I can't read her narrow face. It's like playing in a championship poker match with Indogenes because I can't read their expressionless faces; and if something is really wrong with Rota, I won't know until it's too late. Since that day, she lies in the bed-only getting up to take bathroom breaks. It's January 5, 2030, and her illness scares me. Rory attends school, and she's now twelve years old, and in the seventh grade. She's a quiet child most of the time, but desires to learn everything about the war as possible, and she thrives off of learning new things everyday. She's persistent about owning guns, the same guns used by the Volge. The Charge Weapons piques her interest because she heard some Castithan talking about them. So, she comes home almost everyday, and ask if I've ever handled one. I smile, and simply say, "It's of no concern." Rota abhors violence like most people in the commune, and doesn't want any talk of weapons in the house. It's not allowed to have guns in the commune, an offense punishable by banishment. She wants to stay home to help me care for Rota, but we think it's best for her to go to school. Frustrated, she storms out of my hovel, and leaves for school. I don't chase her this time because Rota doesn't want me babying the child when she acts like a tyrant.

Her fever subsides a bit, and she lies in a puddle of sweat. She kisses me, and then tells me it's too warm for her, so I get up. I run my fingers through her soggy, red hair, and she smiles at me. It's a half smile that almost looks forced, but she's trying to make me believe everything is okay. It's an Irathient thing. She doesn't want me worrying about her, but it's all I can do. I'm not a doctor with a slew of remedies at my disposal. All I have is my support, and sometimes that doesn't seem like enough to do anything. There's a gallon jug of ice water by the bed, and I pour her a glass of it. She drinks until she empties the glass, and then I fill it one more time. She grips the glass with both hands, and takes one more gulp of water.

"You have to stay hydrated, baby," I say with a smile. "Drink it slowly."

I put my clothes back on my body, and give Rota a kiss on the forehead. She knows I'm off to see Doc Twyll, and try to get more fever reducing medicines. My hovel is very small, but it's bigger than many of the tents that most of the residents have. It's sturdy like a tank because it's one of those shipping containers made of steel. It's wind resistant up to two hundred mile per hour winds; and that's a good thing. Rory's bed sits against the far wall while Rota and I share a full sized bed. We don't have much, but we have each other, and that's very important to me. Rota slaves over us-even though we tell her not too-all the time. She goes out of her way to keep the house clean; but since her illness, everything is in disarray. Cleanliness is imbedded into her genetics or something because uncleanliness causes her dismay. The small kitchen has a nice refrigerator, running water, and a cooking stove. It's just enough to make the shipping container hovel livable. A little ways down the hill are several blue, somewhat warm porta-johns. When we're going to use them, we say, "I'm feeling blue." It's not a sophisticated code, but it's a family thing that Rory evented.

Rota sits up against the wall, and drinks the rest of her water in a slow, very methodical manner. I pick the cold chicken soup off the floor, and toss it into the microwave. It's reheated, and I sit it next to the bed. The hot soup generates a lot of steam, and Rota sniffs the bowl, and drinks a little. "It's still good," she says with a smile. She places the bowl back on the nightstand, and wipes her mouth with her sleeve. She hates me waiting on her like I do because she's normally the one taking care of Rory and I. I want to marry her, but she turns me down everytime I suggest it. Sometimes she changes the subject in a crafty manner, as not to turn me down directly. My love for her isn't unrequited on any level. She loves me, and I know that without any doubt in my mind. She says we have all the amenities of a marriage with none of the headaches. I don't know exactly how I feel about our living arrangements, but I feel marriage is important. When she's better, I will continue to persuade her to becoming my wife.

"Are you feeling blue?" I ask in a soft voice. I'm pushing her hair over her ears.

She smiles. "No, sweety."

It's cold. Snow covers the mountains, and the air temperature is around twenty-five degrees Fahrenheit in the valley. I wear a black stocking cap on my head, but my face is bare. I have on a heavy coat that deflects the wind with some black, furry gloves. It's approximately two o'clock in the afternoon, and I expect Rory home by four o'clock. Doc Twyll's office is nothing more than another shipping container turned into an office. The outside of her office is red with white letters written across the top that read, "Connex." She's an Indogene with a vast amount of resources, but I don't know if she keeps medicine on hand for chickenpox. The Doc is a tall woman, a woman approximately six foot two inches tall with a scar on the upper portion of her throat. Soldiers try to kill her during the start of the Pale War, but she escapes into the wilderness. She tries to keep the meds stocked, but the littlest of things keeps her guy from coming. Many people in town are discussing the Yosemite Trials, and angry that Joshua Nolan won't go to jail. We want justice so badly that many of the people simply lose faith in the system when the military tribunal finds him not guilty. Soldiers get away with murder so easily, when they bring up things like, "It's just war." They kill innocent people, and call it collateral damage, but nobody pays for the crimes. I know this attitude the best because I lived it.

Doc Twyll's office sits atop the hill with several other small businesses. Everybody in town owes the Doc something for her services, but I pay my bills immediately. I owe no person any money, and I make it a point to keep it that way. When I ascend up the hill, I notice all the smoke emanating from the small tents, and they look extremely cozy. Some of the residents have connected their tents with other people's tents, and it forms a bigger tent. After the soldiers ransacks the community last year, we make it appoint to go over evacuation drills in order to remove the residents from harm's way as soon as possible.

The war drains the resources needed to take care of the ordinary folks, and I often wonder if we'll survive another five years of this nonsense. I don't know anybody not affected directly by the war, and it saddens me. Rory loses her parents; Rota loses her place of employment; the town loses over two hundred residents. War is tragedy. When my Momma finds out about my relationship with Rota, she disowns me immediately. She sends a letter to me that simply reads, "You aren't my son." I don't show it to Rota because I do not know how she'll take it, so I burn it. Life isn't easy anywhere in this war weary world, and many people frown upon interspecies, sexual relationships, but not the people in the commune. It may be nothing more than a personality thing that brings us together-even though the rest of the world-humans and Votans-frowns upon our integrated lives. My Momma teaches me to hate the Votans from as far back as I can remember; and for a moment out of my tumultuous life, I did.

When I stumble into the Doc's office, she sits at her desk, and looks up at me with a scowl on her rubbery looking face. I don't know why she's in a suspicious looking mood, but it intrigues me. Tapping on her desk, she has a look of disappointment on her scrawny face that makes me believe something biting is on her mind. She knows about Rota's persistent fever, and tells me that she doesn't have anymore fever reducing medicines left, and she needs me to take my roller to get some more in Mariposa. She tells me that the guy will be there until seven o'clock tonight, and the drive is only about sixty minutes. But due to the weather conditions, the guy that usually brings the meds to town can't. She hands me the exact address where to pick up the meds, and then I head back down the hill to retrieve my roller. It's the same roller that I took from the military, but I removed the tracking system in the machine.

Many of the smaller towns don't have the funds needed to support a police department, and they depend on the Earth Republic for assistance. Rumors spread throughout the fractured communities about the callousness of the Earth Republic. They act as judge and jury over every infraction of the law, and can be vicious in carrying out punishments. Unfortunately, with the brutality of the war, many of the soldiers aren't very trustworthy either. They're hypocrites. An element of the Earth Republic delves into the black market as a way of life, and they recruit unsuspecting soldiers to do their bidding. The majority of soldiers don't read all the laws when they enter into the service, but learn the trade after realizing they don't make enough money from the Earth Republic to take care of a family. Everyday, the government charges another soldier with selling drugs and food on the black market for a profit. Under the authority of Earth Republic, soldiers convicted of selling drugs receive the death penalty, and they do carry it out on the spot. It's cruel and unusual on every level imaginable.

When I tell Rota that I need to travel to Mariposa for the drugs, she's apprehensive about my journey. Several people have gone missing on the trails between Yosemite Valley and Mariposa, and it's a scary route nonetheless. She sits up in the bed with nothing but panties and a bra making a feeble attempt at trying not to look sick. The red bumps cover her face, arms, and chest, and she looks like some creature with red dots all over her. Her wide nasal bridge turns redder every time I see her, and some of the bumps have spread far into her hairline. She knows I'll do whatever it takes to make her well. I'm going to Mariposa regardless of her objections because if I don't do everything in my power to keep her well, I'll never be able to rest. Her hair is wild and all over the place, but she tries to straighten it out with her fingers. It's tangled. She's frustrated, but tries to smile to hide her discomfort with her ratty hair. I sit on the edge of the bed next to her, and grab the calamine lotion off the small dresser. It's a black market item that I purchased off one of the Cathistan businessmen wandering through the town. She's supposed to keep the stuff on her skin, but she forgets. I dab a bit of the lotion on her face, and gently massage it into her skin. She's looking at me with a caring look, but keeps a straight face. I'm becoming aroused.

"A storm is moving in soon," She says. She watches me rub the lotion on her legs as she leans against the headboard of my bed. Her firm legs look athletic like an athlete, and she doesn't have to do much to keep them toned . My hands glide up and down her legs, and she closes them when they approach her crotch. "You're insatiable, Derrick." She giggles. "I'm sick. Remember?" She's acting sheepishly, but she's right. I need to stop before she unleashes that Irathient spirit on me, and Rory catches us getting wild on the bed.

Another weather system will move into the area within the next few hours, and she worries I will get caught in it. I place the lotion on the ground, and kiss her on the lips. She kisses me back, and then ask me not to go. She puts her hands on either side of my face, and then says, "I'm not worth this much trouble."

"You're worth all the trouble in the world to me," I reply with a smile. We hug each other, and embrace passionately.

Rory enters through the front door, tosses her book bag on her bed, and then asks, "Are y'all gonna do it?"

"No," I say in an acerbic tone. "You take care of Rota, okay?"

"Where're you going?" She asks.

"Mariposa. Doc is out of meds, and she asked me to pick them up," I say.

"Can I come?" She asks.

"No. I need you here."

Since the beginning of the war, the states haven't had the monies in order to fix the infrastructure. Several of the bridges throughout the state are brittle and dangerous. And in stormy weather, the roads aren't passable in some locations. It doesn't matter because I have to travel to Mariposa to get what Rota needs, and that's the end of the conversation. I give her one more hug, and then I hug Rory too.

"You're gonna need me," Rory says in a bitter tone. "Just you wait and see, Derrick Shooty."

"Rory, that's no way to talk to your father," Rota says.

Chapter 2

The roller sits under a tarp on the side of my hovel, and I warm it up everyday in order to ensure the battery stays charged. It runs off of low grade diesel fuel, and it gets good gas mileage. The cold weather taps the power in many of the battery operated machines, but the rollers are equipped with the top of the line battery cells. I pull off the tarp, and the black roller looks almost brand new since I painted it over in the early part of the summer. ECF probably reports the machine stolen after I took it as the prize in the skirmish with some of the e-rep soldiers. I finds a po-tech pistol stuffed into the passenger seat, and I keep it locked in an old ammo box in the center console. As long as Rota doesn't see it, I won't have any problems. She hates all types of weapons that may be used in acts of violence against another person, and she truly hates guns.

Rory storms out of the house, and marches over to the outhouse without saying a word. I clean the darn thing at least once every two days. In the future, I hope that we can have a sewage system put in place, but it's hard to say with the lingering war. Rory's upset that I won't allow her to come on the trip with me, but I can't be worrying about her if things go badly. I worry about Rota and Rory everyday, and that's why I do whatever I have to do to keep them safe. Taking my daughter on a trek with the possibility of a dangerous storm moving into the area is irresponsible. She's twelve-years-old, and sometimes have problems understanding that we say no in order to protect her.

Once I give the vehicle a quick once over to ensure the tires are properly inflated, the fluids are at the right levels, and I have two containers full of gas on either side of the vehicle, I run into the house, and give Rota one last kiss. I try to wait for Rory to come out of the outhouse, but she takes too long. I hop in the roller, drive past the outhouse, and feel a little hurt that she would purposely avoid me. It's okay. She's a child, and children have to play their games.

When I drive into the town of Mariposa, it's dark and gloomy, and cold. I have the heat turned on high, and it feels good as it bounces off my face. Suddenly, I see something explode in the air, and tons of debris falls out of the sky, and beats up against the planet. I don't know what's happening, but something extraordinary happened in space. I try to find some kind of radio station with information on what I'm seeing, but I don't hear anything. The ground shakes. I'm still standing outside my conveyance when I see something moving in the backseat. It's an animal or something, and I pull out my po-tech gun, and make an attempt to grab the animal when Rory screams, "Dad! It's me."

Frustrated, I just look at her shaking my head. I'm upset, but I try not to let it show. She's in shock at the debris falling out of the sky, and we quickly come to the conclusion that at least one of the Votan's ships exploded above the planet. The ground shakes repeatedly. "Get in the car," I say in frustration. "Your momma is at home. Alone."

"Sorry, sir!"

I look at her for a moment, and then take off down the street. A huge hunk of debris falls on the side of the road barely missing the vehicle. My heart races, and I fear we may not make it to Mariposa. A streak of lightning flashes across the dark sky, and hits a tree near my position. It cuts the thing into two pieces. I bring the roller to a halt, and Rory looks out the window at the down tree. She grimaces. Once we arrive to the town, the warning sirens are blaring louder than anything I ever heard in my life. The ground rumbles beneath my roller, and then I see lava spewing out one of the mountain tops to my north. It looks like an active volcano, and then it collapses in front of my very eyes. I don't know what to make of an entire mountain crumbling in front of my eyes, and all I want to do is make it out of Mariposa alive. We approach a small pharmacy with a guy standing on the front steps looking at the chaos. His black rimmed glasses barely fits on his tiny face, but he seems like a good fellow. His hair is short like the military wears, and he puffs on a cigarette. His hands tremble as he looks at the collapsing mountain, and I understand his fears. He's looking up at the lava pouring off the adjacent mountain, but it doesn't collaspe like its sister. The lava streams down the mountain side, and heads for the small town.

"You're from Yosemite?" He asks.

"Yes," I say, "We're here for the meds." I hands him a piece of paper signed by the doc, and he hands me a suitcase full of meds. It's a brown suitcase made out of some kind of wood fiber. It's heavy too. I place it in back of my conveyance, and the guy tells me that it isn't safe to be on the road. He says the radio is talking about the arks exploding in space, and some terraforming equipment slamming against the Earth. He warns me to get underground as soon as possible because the world is about to change, forever. I laugh because he sounds like a crazy man. I hop in my roller and Rory's in the passenger seat, and suddenly the small store is engulfed by a mountain of lava. It seems crazy to me, but the entire town disappears in my rearview mirror, but I keep speeding down the road.

"Don't look back," I say to Rory.

The terrain changes in front of my eyes, and the road develops more and more hills on it. I bring the vehicle to a sudden stop when I see an oddly shaped tree grow out of the ground in front of my vehicle.

"What's happening?" Rory ask with a look of fear on her face.

"I don't know, darling," I say. More and more debris falls to the ground in front of our eyes, and an entire ship careens through the sky, and slams into the field next to my vehicle. Curious, I drive the vehicle over to the downed spaceship in order to get a better look.

"Stay here," I say to Rory.

"What are you doing?" She asks.

"Gotta see if anybody survived," I say.

It's a huge ship, a ship that is approximately fifty yards in length. The impact cracks the ship in half, and I'm able to squeeze through a sliver into the corridor of the ship. It glows on the inside of the massive machine, and many of its residents are inside cocoon like pods. I tear one of the pods open, and the Irathient who lies on the inside of the pod looks like a twelve-year-old kid. He's young with long, red braided hair, and markings on his face. He's alive. When he opens his eyes, he immediately panics, but doesn't have the strength to stand. The years in cryostasis has left him without the immediate use of his legs. He falls forward, and I catch him. He almost seems helpless to stand to his feet, but I understand completely. The gravity on the ship is much different than the gravity on Earth. I lie him on the floor, and he scoots underneath a counter-keeping a watchful eye on me the entire time.

I walk over to several other pods in order to see if any of the other residents survived, and most of them didn't. Their containers are full of blood, and I hope that Rory doesn't walk into the ship to see what I see. I find another Irathient-a female-alive and well. She lies in her pod looking straight ahead, and struggling to stand to her feet. I pick her up out of the pod, and she screams when she sees the other dead Irathients. She screaming for her momma and father who are deceased. It's a painful scene. I carry her out of the pod, place her in my roller, and then do the same with the boy.

"Where are you going to take them? Rory asks. She looks at the kids in the backseat.

"To the Doc," I say. I look back at the young ones in the backseat, and they have a look of fear on their faces. In their own tongue, I tell them not to worry. Everything will be okay.

Chapter 3

The Arkfall continues throughout my travels back to Yosemite Valley, but for some reason, the seriousness of the situation isn't registering like it should. Looking back at the two Irathient kids in the back seat assures that something is amiss. Sparks of fire fly through the air, beating against the earth, and causing fires to erupt everywhere my eyes can see. The rumbling of the planet causes me queasiness, and I'm not sure about Rota's situation. I just traverse through the pitted roads the best that I can, and hope I don't put the roller into a cavity. The gravity of the arks crashing to the planet hasn't hit me yet. But when I enter Yosemite Valley, I don't recognize the place at all. The cozy tents that stood on the countryside have been obliterated. The fires erase everything to the north of the camp, and consume many of the tents. Fires are happening all over the area, and people are walking aimlessly through the streets, freezing. The beautiful snow capped mountains aren't beautiful anymore. In fact, they aren't there at all. I travel slowly to my home, and it appears that half of it is inside of some kind of cavern; it's completely surrounded by sediment. It looks like the ground tried to consume my hovel with Rota possibly inside of it. My heart palpitates out of control when I see the back half of my home stuck in the sediment, and the front half sticking out. I beg whatever God is left that Rota is okay.

I climb up the rock, leap onto the top of the shipping container, and make an attempt to open the front door. Ash from the fires flies through the air-causing me to cough uncontrollably. I smell the feces from the spilled porta johns, and it's rancid. Screaming Rota's name, I don't hear her voice or hear anything inside the container: no jumping, no moving, anything. It's silent. Scared, I fear to imagine the possibilities of what might be on the inside of my hovel. If Rota's dead, then I'd rather not see it; but at the same time, I need to see if she's okay. Rory stands on the side of the roller, and she's crying over the sight of the container sticking out of the rock, and I understand why. The Irathient kids are still in the conveyance, but they aren't saying anything. Suddenly, I see the door open, and Rota is standing below me. She screams my name a few times, and then I say, "Right here, baby." I feel nothing but joy in my heart; it's overwhelming.

I crawl inside my home, and all the furniture is in disarray: the beds are broken; the small tables are piled into the kitchen, the water isn't working. Rota is running a slight fever, but she looks a little better than she did earlier. I hug her with a tight grip, kiss her passionately, and tell her how much I love her. We sit on the floor for a moment, and I put my hands on either side of her face, and tell her that we found two kids on a crashed ship. She wants to see them so badly that she opens the door, climbs on top of the container, and makes her way over to the roller. I hear wailing in the distance, and small fires continue to pop up all over the commune. It's hell.

The Arkfall continues to light up the night sky, and everybody is scared. Not only did the landscape of the area change overnight, but the climate did too. The temperature rises to at least ninety degrees with a lot of humidity. I feel like we're going to burn up, but I'm not sure. We hear rumors of the broken ships hitting entire communities, and killing thousands of people. The area continues changing in front of our eyes, but we make due. Reports are coming in from around the world about massive shifts in the terrain, and one report says that the ancient city of Atlantis resurfaced.

After I give the Doc her meds, she gives Rota a bottle of pills in order to keep her fever down, and we pray that her pox passes. We ask the Doc to take a look at the children in order to make sure the crash didn't injure them. She looks at them closely with her tools, and the kids are too scared to move. Rota explains to them that all is okay, but they're frozen in place. Rota tells them to clear their minds, and focus on good things. The kids relax, and then the Doc finishes up. She tells us to feed them in order to get their strength up.

Rota explains to the kids that she is contagious with the pox, so she has to keep away from them. It's hot. I'm dripping with sweat, and sticky from the humidity. I park the roller, and we find a cozy place on the other side of the commune with the other destitute families. Rota tells me that the boy's name is Ion and the girl's name is Naria. Rota sits next to a tree that I don't recognize, and I sit beside her-thinking. Something is sticking me in the side when I sit down, and I have to adjust my pants. It's my gun. I'm unnerved about it because if Rota finds out about the gun, she'll be extremely upset. Irate. Rory is tired, and she lies at my feet. The two Irathient kids (Ion and Naria) stay focused on the sky, and find it hard to relax. They're sitting directly in front of us without saying a word.

Rota falls asleep beside me after sitting for only a few minutes, and I feel her forehead. She's not running a fever at all, and I'm relieved about that. I know Rota lost her brother at the beginning of the Pale Wars to the pox, and it devastated her. It's probably a little after midnight, and the earth continues to rumble, but now the shakes are commonplace. The terrain shifts a little bit in the last few hours, but that's about it. Wolves are running around outside of the commune because I can hear their howls. It means something is most likely dead or dying out there. The two Irathient kids lie on the grass next to each other, and fall asleep. The majority of people in the commune have fallen asleep, and I gently lie my head against the tree in order to join them.

Suddenly, I hear people screaming; and when I open my eyes, I see some kind of large creature tearing a Castithan man apart. It's a horrible sight, and blood flies everywhere. The creature looks like some kind of large lobster, and it clips the man in two halfs. Ion hops to his feet in a fighting stance, but he has no weapon. When I see that, I pull out my po-tech pistol, instinctively, and aim it at the beast. Rota looks at the gun, and snarls. She jumps up to her feet, and tells the kids to follow her. Ion is reluctant to move. The giant creature shreds the man's inners, and then tries to attack the guy's family. I charge the animal, and fire several rounds into the beast at the same time. The lead slices through the monster's head, and it dies in front of me. I observe the animal for a second, and it has a hard protective shell like a turtle, but it's not a turtle at all. It looks like a giant beetle, but I'm not sure what it is. It's about the size of a compact car, and it smells like stahko. When I turn to walk away from my kill, I see the looks on the people's faces. I'm not a hero to these people because of the views about guns. They look at my po-tech pistol as a weapon of war, and weapons of war aren't allow in the community.

Sitting on the other side of the commune, Rota gives me that stilted look, a disconcerting look. I sit next to her, and make an attempt to rub her left shoulder, but she pulls away. It's one of those situations where I have to ask what I did, but I know what I did, but I feel that she should see only the good in what I did. Parts of me desire to let her be angry without engaging in any conversation at all, and other parts feel the need to explain my actions. I dream about a world where everybody can live free without weapons of war, but that's the dream. The reality of this world is weapons make the peace. Ion stands in the middle of the commune pointing his finger like a pistol, and making pow noises.

"What's wrong?" I ask in a naive voice. Pretending like I don't understand her bitterness, I try to act ignorant about my po-tech pistol.

She shrugs, and points frustratingly at Ion playing with Naira and Rory. He's pretending to shoot them, and they're falling to the ground in playful agony. "You have a gun," she says in an acerbic voice. She looks at me with her green eyes, and she's frustrated. She folds her arms, and looks me directly in the face.

"It was in the vehicle," I say softly.

"You cleaned that machine out plenty of times," she says in a nasty tone, "You knew about it all this time? It's prohibited, Derrick."

"I know," I say.

"They'll ask for you to leave the commune," she says in a soft voice. "I love this commune."

"What are you saying exactly?" I ask. I feel angry and hurt by her words, and I never thought it would come to this kind of choice.

"I love this commune, Derrick. But if you go, I go with you," she says, "We're family."

Chapter 4

The commune excommunicates me the next day without question-even in the midst of all the chaos. Twelve elders sit in front of me with their haughty looks, and pass judgement on my actions. It angers me that none of them recognizes the good of having a weapon, and knowing exactly how to use it. I know they abhor weapons, but what am I to say. The last thing I want to do is fire a gun, but I'd fire a million of them to save Rota and Rory. It's how I feel about things. With Rota by my side, I refuse to fight the exile or act like a hellion over the situation. The board seems a bit chuffed that I didn't bring up how I saved a man's family from a dangerous creature with the gun. Rota and I leave the community with Rory and the two Irathient kids. We pack up as much stuff as we can, and tie it to the top of the roller. We have everything fastened down with bungee cords, and the Irathient children work diligently with us. Rota cries as we drive out the commune, and I hold her hand for a moment. I feel badly at the damage I've done, but I probably wouldn't have changed anything if I had a chance to do it again.

We drive east to Oklahoma City, but nothing looks like the Oklahoma I remember. The planet is terraformed into some kind of hybrid of itself, and Oklahoma is a mountainous region now. There are no plains anywhere. Everywhere I look, I see nothing but hills and valleys. The quakes cause millions of people to lose their homes and places of employment. The streets are broken apart, and people roam aimlessly up and down the hillside. I see a man carrying something that looks like a manikin, and then I realize it's a dead woman. We try to listen for any radio chatter, but we're not getting anything. Eventually, Rota tunes into a radio station that's reporting on the dead. They estimate the terraforming has killed nearly a billion people worldwide.

I see a new growth of odd looking trees that are alien to anything I've ever seen in my life. They're like tall mushrooms, and they must have popped up overnight. The top of the trees are a smooth, slick surface while the trunks are wooden. Did the trees grow overnight or are Earth's existing trees mutating because of the terraforming? I don't know. A convoy of Earth Military Coalition troops ride through the area, and I notice the face of one of the troops driving a military roller; it's Plywood Heller, a soldier who served under me when I served. He's much older now-nearly ten years older, and he looks rough. I hope that he didn't see me because I know we'd have issues.

The quakes destroy some of the biggest retails stores, and we come up on a site where tons of cars have fallen into a crater. I park the car next to what appears to be a Danner's Retail Store, but it's not standing. The big sign on the front of the business is lying off to the side of a broken street, and I see a stream of blood rolling down the hill from the destroyed establishment. Danners is a huge chain that goes from coast to coast that sells all kinds of camping gear, household supplies and so on. I want to rummage through the wreckage for some sleeping bags, and other items of importance. The smell of decaying flesh overtakes my senses, and I can barely stand it. When Rory smells it, she throws up on the side of the vehicle. Rota covers her nose, and pulls at my arm.

"Let's get out of here, Derrick," Rota says, "Nothing but death here."

Bans of people roam through the woods in order to escape the repercussions of the terraforming planet. The soldiers are convoying thousands of indigent souls out of the area to safety on the back of cattle trucks. The abrupt changing of the planet crumbles nearly every building within Oklahoma City. Every time the planet changes, it's like a devastating earthquake that affects thousands of people. The kids are restless, and Rota wants to find a field in order to set up some shelter. None of us have eaten more than a peanut butter sandwich all day, and we're starving. Eventually, I find a field on I-40 that's suitable for our needs. The roadway looks like it was hit with a massive explosive device, but it's probably a result of the terraforming. Rota places a blanket on the ground, and we sit quietly in the field for a moment. I notice Naira is lethargic, but it doesn't worry me. The sun drains everybody a little bit, and she isn't any different.

Rory makes everybody a peanut butter sandwich, and we sit in the middle of some high grass, and eat. I notice Rory making an attempt to talk to the other two kids, but they aren't saying anything at all. Naira lies on the ground, and closes her eyes. The long journey is draining her strength. I don't think the kids are purposely ignoring Rory, but they probably don't understand English well enough to communicate. Rota will fix that problem as soon as we find a place to settle. It's unusually warm for the Seventh of January, but it's okay. I'm on high alert because I start seeing bat like creatures flying overhead, and I don't know if they're a threat. They are larger than bats, but aren't bats at all-at least not pure. They may be some kind of hybrid of a bat and a bird, but I'm not sure. I eat my sandwich rather quickly, but the rest of my group eats much slower. Naira took a few bites of her sandwich, and goes back to sleep on the ground. I sit behind Rota and she sits between my legs, and I gently massage her back. She loves me massaging her back when she's eating. It's my way of showing her affection without being too provocative in front of the kids. Naira sits up, and finishes the rest of her sandwich, and then the kids roam around the area a bit.

Ion bends over for a minute, and then runs over to me. He shows me a nice folding knife with a wooden handle. It looks like somebody recently dropped it, but we don't see anybody else in the area. I pull a sharpening stone out of my pocket, and demonstrates to him how to sharpen the knife. And then Rota tells him it's a dangerous weapon, and he needs to be careful so he doesn't hurt anybody with it. He sits against a large rock, and sharpens the stone while the two girls play in the tall weeds.

The earth trembles a few times before another major earthquake causes us to leave the area. I feel the ground trembling more than a little, and I call the girls to come over to us so we can go. Naira is a fast runner, and she zooms over to us, and we stand by the roller waiting for Rory. Suddenly, the earth underneath us warps in front of our eyes, and now we're standing on a small hill, and Rory takes off for us after feeling the power of the earthquake. She's scared. We hop back in the roller, drive down I-40, and head towards Muskogee, Oklahoma, the town where I grew up. The road shakes uncontrollably, and we don't see any other vehicles on the roads for nearly six miles. We drive off of the crumbling main thoroughfare onto the grass, and traverse the roller over the hilly terrain. I'm leary of the possibility of hitting unforeseen potholes the terraforming caused, and many of the bridges are gone. After approximately six miles of driving, we see gaggles of folks traversing the countryside on foot. Many of them are scratched and bruised, and I think it's because of the tumultuous nature of the terraforming. It's not the people's fault that they look so raggedy, but the planet is hot. It's much hotter than usual, and it's early January.

The majority of buildings in Muskogee are gone, and I don't see any signs of human or Votan life. I try to find my old house, but nothing looks the same in my hometown. The terraforming wrecks the place, and nothing looks the same. The Earth is bent into hills and valleys, and pretty much nothing is left standing. Not even the animals move in the small town. It looks like a major tornado tore every building in the town to shreds, and mountains exist where none ever did. I fear the worse. I look around the area for a moment while Rota and the kids sit in the car. I don't recognize anything in the town without the street signs and buildings. Rota waves at me to return to the car, and I hurry over to my conveyance.

"It's gone. It's all gone," I say. I feel sick to my stomach. The terraforming vanquishes the roads, and we travel over grass, rocks, and shattered streets. The kids sleep in the back seat of the roller quietly, and Rota's color is normal. Her fever is completely gone, and she hasn't taken any more pills. She rubs the back of my neck, and it relaxes me. We traverse over a hill, and see an ark on the other side-broken. It's a prodigious ship that stretches the length of a football field, and I'm curious. The front half-torn and tattered-shows no life whatsoever, but the back half of the ship has a flickering, incandescent glow that captures my attention.

I drive up to the giant ship, and Rota begs me to be careful. With my po-tech pistol at my side, I flounder around with the ship's hatch. It's a struggle to open, but I open it when I turned the latch counter clockwise. The pods are full of freshly dead bodies that died on impact; and in the rear of the vessel, I see a stash of Charge Weapons. They are attached to the wall on a special rack specifically designed for the rifles. My heart beats faster in my chest because I know the power of those weapons. They not only kill its intended target, but removes the flesh clean off the bones. I'm nervous because the pods have deceased Indogenes in them, but the stash of weapons are used by the Volge. The Charge Guns are their weapons of choice; and in the height of this bloody Pale Wars, the Charge Weapons are hard to get. I grab several of the guns off the racks, sling them over my left shoulder, and make an attempt to walk back through the hatch. The guns are weighing me down, but I don't mind the punishing weight as long as I have the prize of owning so many high tech weapons. I'm lumbering through the ship with the weight of the weapons causing me excruciating pain. A noise comes from the walls, but I don't see anything. I'm cautious. The Indogene blood smells like copper, and one of them looks right at me. Stopping, I look at the creature for a moment to see if she moves, but nothing. She continues to stare at nothing, and then her left hand falls by her side. She's dead. She has to be dead. I hear a door slide open, and aim my po-tech weapon in the direction of the noise. The ship is sweltering, and the sweat rolls into my eyes. I see a monstrously huge creature standing menacingly across the floor from me with a scowl on its face. I can't swallow, and I feel a lump of pain in my chest. Black ooze comes from the cuts it has on it's body, and for a moment, I lose track of which weapon I want to shoot him with first. Gripping my po-tech gun, I try to ease through the hatch, but it's difficult. The weapons cause me to lose balance, and then it charges at me with all its speed, and I fire my po-tech pistol in rapid succession, and the creature falls to one knee. It shows his teeth because it has an angry growl, a menacing posture. That many rounds would have killed an ordinary Votanic soldier without question, but the Volge are a different breed-hard. Black ooze dribbles out of its head, but it makes an attempt to continue its charge. I fire one of the Charge Weapons at the monster, and it rips the flesh off its body. His left arm disintegrates in front of me, and it's reaching for the missing appendage, but can't find it. It falls to the ground face down-dead.

I toss the weapons in the very back of the vehicle, and I have one on my person when I'm driving. The roller speeds over the rough terrain, and I see a laser blast brush past the vehicle. Sweat is in my eyes, and it feels warmer now than ever before. When Rota looks back to see the creature firing at us, she yells, "The Volge." Placing her hand on the dashboard and clenching her mouth shut, I took the all-terrain roller over some of the roughest countryside since we started the journey. Rory is yelling from the backseat, but I can't understand what she's saying. All I want is to get away from the Volge before another laserblast does more than simply swish past my vehicle. After twenty miles, we get out of the roller, check the vehicle, and see a few burnt marks where the laser nearly missed us.

I hurry out of the roller with sweat pouring down my face. My heart's racing fast, and it feels like it's going to burst through my chest. Rota speeds walk around the vehicle with one of the Charge Weapons in her right hand. She looks peeved.

"What's this, Derrick?" She ask. Biting her bottom lip, her demeanor has completely changed. She's angry. I see the rage in her eyes, but I don't respond immediately. "I left the commune for this?" She holds up the Charge Weapon, tosses it on the ground, and walks away.

I pick up the weapon, place it back in the vehicle, and the kids look traumatize. Rota stands in the distance with her arms folded, and I'm trying to find the exact words to make her feel better. She gave up the commune for me, but I know now that being a pacifist is only a dream for me. Committing violent acts are a part of my character as oxygen is to my lungs. The touch of my hand on her right shoulder causes her to pull away from me, and I let her. I don't force the situation because she doesn't like to be man handled.

"I do whatever it takes, Rota. Whatever it takes," I say. It's probably the wrong words, but It's my words. She looks over at me with her big green eyes, and then I say, "Killing is the way of life in these badlands. It's not a pretty world, but it's our world."

She sighs. She looks down at the ground, back up at me, and then back at the ground. She says in a brittle voice, "You're stupid." Tears roll down her face, and she looks over at me. I want to hug her, but I know she has to get all of her anger out before she'll let me near her. "I'm stupid for loving you." Her voice breaks apart.

The sky opens up in front of us, and another ark careens toward the planet about two miles north of us. A stream of fire comes out of the back of the ship as it enters into the earth's atmosphere, and the kids are pointing at it. I'm a little afraid that it might hit us, but it flies over our heads. I hear a boom in the distance, and feel the eagerness to check it out rise inside of me. Grabbing Rota by the hand, we hop in the roller with the kids in the back, and head for the fallen ark.

It sits and burns in the distance, but we're the first scavengers on the scene. The humidity is thick in the air, and all of us are sweating profusely. I'm not sure what I want with the massive ship, but the parts have to be of some value to somebody. The ship causes a massive groove in the countryside where it skidded through the mud. The lights flicker. I see no signs of life coming from the wreck, and the billowing smoke makes it hard to scope it out from a distance. I inch my roller towards the ship, when a team of human soldiers make their way from the downed wreck. They're moving fast over the rough terrain, and Rota is begging for me to take off in the other direction.

The soldiers are from Earth Military Coalition, and they are some roughnecks with a lot of military assets at their command. I quickly back away from the wreck, and head over the hill to my previous observation point. I'm sure the soldiers saw me, but didn't think of me as important as the booty on the ship. The head guy on the team looks like an enlisted guy, but I'm not sure. He's Asian with a skinny frame, and carries a Charge Weapon on his hip. His subordinates remove the hatch to the vehicle. He stands behind them, and commands them to remove the hatch. When they blow off the door, a group of Volge dive out of the burning wreckage, and startles the soldiers. The creatures are humongous compared to the soldiers, and they move twice as fast too. They're hulking bodies and grotesque facial features make them look like monsters. The soldiers fire their weapons like mad men, but the Volge are organized and trained well in close quarters. Quickly, the other worlders move into an offensive posture, and over run the soldiers without any problems. It happens so quickly that I can't believe what I'm seeing. The soldiers didn't have a chance against the overwhelming force of the creatures, and the monsters continues to beat the bodies of the dead military men. The Volge's weapons are powerful, and tear holes in the soldiers' body armour without a problem. One of the Volge looks over at my roller, points, and then I hear him grunting loudly. Another soldiers comes up from behind him, and fires on me. The laser swooshes past my roller, and I grab one the Charge Weapons to return fire when Rota grabs my arm.

"Not with the kids in the car," she screams, "Get us out of here, Derrick."

I storm away from the observation point because I didn't want to put the kids in any unforeseen danger; however, I feel if anymore Volge soldiers land on the planet, we may lose Earth forever. The planet continues to rumble underneath my roller, and I worries the ground may split open, and swallow us. We're running low on fuel, and I don't think the roller has enough fuel to carry us another twenty miles. It sputters a bit. The vehicle slows down a great deal, and then it comes to a complete halt.

"What happened?" Rota asks.

"Gas. It's out of gas," I say, "The fuel cans are empty too."

We exit the roller, and I lean against it without any clue on my next move. The Irathient children are kicking the leaves around the roller, but I don't pay them much attention. Rota scowls, and seems a bit perturbed with me. It's okay. She sits in the passenger seat with the door open. She grabs my hand, and looks up at me for a minute. "We'll have to walk."

"Probably," I say with a grimace. The Irathient kids continue to rustle with the leaves for some reason, but I don't know why. "What are those kids doing?"

"Playing," Rota says with a smile. "Just kicking leaves."

Rory hugs me, and sits on a rock overlooking the valley. She's been extra quiet on the trek, and now we have to try to survive on foot. I smell musty from sitting in the driver's seat all day, and tired. The Irathient kids pull back a stack of leaves, and pick up some clear looking pellets off the ground.

"Stahko!"

"Ewwww!" Rory exclaims.

Rota looks over at the kids, and says, "Wait? That's fuel."

"Fuel?" I ask.

"Yeah. The creatures are a hybrid from one of our harmless creatures that produces fuel in its excrement. It's the same."

"You mean the creature that nearly killed us?" I ask.

"The one in the same," she says.

She runs over to the stahko, grabs a handful of it, and squeezes the juices into the fuel tank. It looks like a good idea, but I don't think it'll work. I grab a fist full of the stakho, and do the same. The Irathient kids are laughing at us and Rory is shaking her head in disgust, but they seem to understand what we're doing. The fuel is oily in texture, and has a strong, synthetic odor to it. It reminds me of diesel fuel.

I climb inside the vehicle, pump the gas, and make an attempt to start it. It struggles at first, but then it starts right up without a problem.

Chapter 5

We travel nearly one hundred more miles after we filled up the roller with the stahko, and we set up a small camp somewhere in Arkansas. The terraforming turns Arkansas into a place that I don't recognize. Everything is so green and spring-even though it's the middle of smell of spring makes me want to park the roller in Arkansas for good, and leave all my worries in Oklahoma. Daffodils blooming under the bright January sun seems almost magical, at least to Rota. We park the roller about one hundred feet away from the most magnificent waterfall I had ever seen, and I try to remember if Arkansas has waterfalls. Rota exits the vehicle, runs to the Daffodils, and gives them a deep whiff. She loves the yellow flowers more than any other flower in nature. She looks back at me with a hefty smile, and tells me how beautiful and surreal the area looks. She plucks a flower, puts it in her hair, and poses for me. Rory laughs.

Thousands of people roam the fields between Arkansas and Oklahoma according to the radio, but the government is too busy fighting the Pale Wars to help them. Food shortages are rampant, and the majority of the population doesn't know anything about hunting for wild game. We make every attempt to avoid large crowds of people because looting, murdering, and all kinds of heinous crimes are happening in cities like Tulsa. Everybody is scared. The sky opens up continually spewing garbage that hurls haphazardly towards the earth, and the debris has killed thousands. Rumors of cities collapsing under the weight of the terraforming planet scares everybody, but the waterfall is pleasant.

The radio reports that rogue groups from the Earth Republic are rapining the area for supplies; they're stealing everything they can get their hands on-even the women. It's a shameful day that not even the good guys can be trusted. Everybody is begging the Earth Republic to end this fruitless war, but they aren't listening. The soldiers make their way through Missouri, and head straight for Arkansas, and they've already destroyed several fledgling communities. The humanitarian crisis is like nothing the world has ever seen. Plagues, diseases, terraforming, mass killings, war, and death after death breaks the will of almost every human and Votan on the planet. Numerous people have been murdered at the hands of soldiers, and letters to the government have done very little to stop it. I hear rumors about the Earth Republic disbanding the Earth Military Coalition, and I understand the reasoning behind the move. We're living in a changing society, and humans and Votans are ready to share this planet, but the will to do good moves slowly.

Rota looks so calmly to me when she's bent over filling a steal bucket of water from the river. It flows voraciously, and the water looks like crystals as it beats against the rocks. She tastes a little, and looks back at me with a smile.

"It's even fresher than the water in the commune," she says. She gives me a playful scowl for a second because she knows what I'm thinking. She wags her left index finger at me, and then says, "You have shameful thoughts on your mind, Derrick. Maybe later, okay?" She smiles.

The radio reports about the soldiers chuffs my spirit, and I immediately start building a shelter. Working with my hands usually helps me subdue my negative thoughts, and I'm fearful that soldiers are heading my way. Thinking of what those soldiers may or may not do weighs heavy on my soul. I look back at Rota while she gives Rory a drink of water, and Naira sits by a large tree. She isn't looking well. I'll kill a thousand soldiers to protect one Rota, and it's just that simple. Thinking about some hairy ape touching her enrages me, and I have to sit down for a second to compose myself.

The tent is nothing more than an old army tent from the Earth Military Coalition that I had stored in my hovel back at the commune. It's the last vestige of materials that I have from them, and Ion assists me in erecting the old army shelter. It's a sturdy modular tent that can withstand strong winds when it's staked just right. It packs up in an extremely small bundled, and the poles are made out of a space aged aluminum alloy that doesn't break easy. Ten years ago it was a top of the line quality product, but now they're everywhere. Ion and I don't take any shortcuts with the stakes; we fastens every corner as tight as possible in order to withstand any strong winds. He watches me closely, and does everything that I do. He's smart and a quick learner.

I grab the Charge Weapons out of the roller, and bring them into the tent. Rory clears her throat, and gives me an awkward glare. She knows how Rota feels about the guns, but I can't risk it with rogue soldiers wrecking communities. Rota is gathering sticks and twigs for a fire, and I'm going to help her as soon as I'm done with stashing the weapons. Naria sits in the corner of the tent, and falls asleep while Ion sharpens the knife he found.

"She's not going to like it," Rory says in a childish voice.

"It's protection," I say, "Nothing else."

I know having the weapons in the tent puts my relationship with Rota in a precarious situation, but what else is there to do. I place them out of the way against the rear right corner of the tent in the hopes that Rota won't snoop around to find them. It's foolish for her to think I can throw rocks at soldiers or talk to soldiers reasonably after the Yosemite debacle. With their po-tech guns, hate for Votans, and love for killing, I doubt we'll be able to reach an understanding. It's fortuitous that I found this little area of land, and the soldiers might not even find us. But at the same time, I can't risk it. I need weapons in case the soldiers try to kill us or take our property or rape the girls.

The radio tells us of a Votan camp approximately ten miles north of us, and they send soldiers into a human occupied area, and helps them with the Irathient flu. Several humans die in the first twenty-four hours of the outbreak, and then the disease zigzags its way through the entire community-killing half. I'm not sure if I'm listening to a Votan controlled radio station or what, but I'm nervous about the proximity of the Votans to my bivouac. They're demanding a ceasefire in order to deal with the aftermath of the terraforming planet, and working with human scientist to create medicines to deal with the Irathient flu.

I hear Rota screaming, and I grab one of the Charge Weapons, and run out of the tent. I'm looking for her, but I don't see anything. Maybe she fell in the river, but I don't see her at all. The vegetation is thick, and all around me. Humidity causes me to break into a deep sweat. The smell of the water isn't even refreshing at this point because my heart is pounding loud enough for me to hear it. I'm scared. Ion runs out of the tent with his small blade, and he's looking around the area too. He points at the hilltop adjacent to our position, and I see a soldier holding a knife to Rota's throat. He's a white soldier, a pale soldier with thinning red hair. I know him.

"Knew you're a traitor, LT," Plywood Heller says with a snarl on his face. "Instead of killing this scum," he pauses for a second, and spits in her face. "You're fucking it."

All I can think about is killing the man at this point, but I dare not shoot him with Rota in the way. When I look Rota in the eyes, her tears make me want to kill Heller even more. Ion comes up behind me, and is ready to attack Plywood at any time.

"How fucking cute?" Heller asks. "That's your little mop headed child?"

"Let her go, soldier," I say in a command voice. "Nobody has to get hurt today."

"You don't give me orders, LT," he screams, "You're not my boss anymore." He places the knife to Rota's throat, and I raise my weapon at his head. Regardless, I plan on shooting him at this point.

"Don't do it, Heller," I say one last time. As soon as he presses the knife against her throat, I pull the trigger. His head explodes from the blast. Rota crawls over to me, and grabs me by the leg. The Daffodil flower she wears on her head falls to the ground. She's frightened.

Ion points to Plywood as his headless body lies on the soft, warm ground, and I notice his blood is silver. I'm startled for a moment. My mind races for a bit with all kinds of negative thoughts because this man was a former subordinate on my team. His resume is fresh in my mind after all these years, and he comes across as the most American of all the men on my team. Plywood is a nobody in the Earth Military Coalition, the last man on the totem pole. Ion picks up Rota's Daffodil, and gives it to me. I smell the yellow flower for a moment, and then place it gently back in her hair. I help her to her feet, but she purposely doesn't look at the carnage I caused. We walk over to the tent, and Rory sits in the corner reading a book. Naira lies asleep on the ground. Feeling her head, she's warm, too warm. I look up at Rota, and she immediately grabs the fever reducing pills.

"Naira, wake up," I say. Rota repeats what I say in her native tongue, and the child opens her eyes slightly. The red bumps cover her face, and I can't help but squint in horror. Rota tells Ion to stay outside the tent because Naira is infectious. I give her the pill, and a cool glass of water, and she drinks only a little. The red bumps appear on her face, but slightly, and Rota shakes her head back and forth. Teary eyed, Rota looks at the girl's face from top to bottom, and lifts up her shirt. She's covered in little red bumps all over her stomach and chest.

"She's got the pox," Rota says with a grimace on her face. She places her hands on the child's cheeks, and laments with three simple words: "It's my fault."

"No it's not," I say, "It happened, and now we make sure she gets better."

Ion sits atop the hill like a warrior on the lookout for the enemy, and I go up there with him. His hair spikes in all different directions, and he looks like a wild child. He wears a dead look on his face, and doesn't seem to be a very happy kid. He flicks his folding blade open, and cleans his fingernails. He's adept with a knife.

"Is she okay?" He ask in his native tongue.

I give him a blank stare while I'm trying my best to explain the situation.


End file.
